Just One Thing
by unicyclehippo
Summary: Rachel's fathers are clever and kind. They give the best advice but Rachel doesn't always listen. But when a tragedy befalls them, their last piece of advice sticks and Rachel swears by it. "Change one thing," they'd told her. "Just one little thing."


**Just One Thing: Chapter One**

**Glee isn't mine.**

**Please enjoy.**

"I'm sick and tired of being the only one working at it, Daddy. Why do I have to do everything?"

"Why don't you just offer people friendship and let them come to you, sweetie? You don't have to _convince_ people to be friends with you. It just," He shrugs awkwardly and makes a sudden, spontaneous movement, "_happens_."

"Daddy. No one _likes_ me."

"I like you."

Rachel couldn't quite stop the smile at that statement but it was a little sad for a smile. She loved her daddy and her dad but a girl needed more than her fathers sometimes. A girl needed friends. More than that, Rachel Berry _wanted_ friends.

"Daddy," she chastised, stamping her foot gently. "I want to talk with you. Why aren't you listening to what I'm saying?"

He hurriedly rearranged his face into an appropriately pensive listening expression and she beamed at him, nodding her approval.

"Thank you, Daddy. As you are aware," she began, "I have not had much success with befriending many individuals. This has been evident in the quantity of slushie facials that I have received since beginning at McKinley High. I thought that I would have an easier time in befriending the members of the Glee Club but that has not been successful."

Rachel's dad Hiram interjected for the first time, folding down the corner of his newspaper so that he could peer over his reading glass at his daughter.

"Hold on, darling. What about that Flinn boy that used to be over here all the time?"

"Finn, Dad."

"What?" He looked positively flabbergasted. "Hold on, why are you talking about flippers? I thought we were talking about your friends." Rachel frowned at him.

"His name is _Finn_, Dad, and I know that you are aware of that fact. And no," she turned up her nose. "He was, at one point in time, my boyfriend but he slept with Santana and didn't tell me – worse, he _lied_ to me and told me he was a virgin – and everyone seemed to know about except for me. He also fed me meat, which made me throw up, and worse than _all_ of that, he kissed me at Nationals and yes, Daddy," she said to her lightly sniggering father, "I know that you watch that video to laugh at my misfortune. I have absolutely no doubt that the kiss was a huge factor in contributing to our rather disappointing twelfth placement."

"So…" Hiram frowned. "He's _not_ your boyfriend? Because, as your fathers, we would like to know these things." Rachel shook her head. "And he isn't your friend either?"

Rachel pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say no to being his friend," she said slowly, "but I will say no to ever dating him again and if he means to use our friendship to 'get into my pants' as I believe the common terminology is, then he can forget it."

Hiram and Leroy nodded approvingly. Their girl was growing up fast but she was still their little girl and they weren't about to let some hulking man-child take her virginity. That had been the reason they'd started working from home anyway—so they could be, as Leroy gleefully mentioned to Hiram now and then, the 'worlds most annoying cock-blockers'.

"Alright then. What about Kurt? You two are friends, aren't you?"

"No. He dressed me as a sad clown hooker when I was trying to attract Finn's attention because he refused to accept the fact that Finn is incredibly straight and therefore not interested in any boys, even Kurt. That being said, I find his undeniable talent, love of fashion, and the sometimes overwhelming need to gossip, interesting characteristics and I would love to be his friend if only he would stop being so," she faltered, gesturing wildly to search for a word and eventually settled for, "mean. I understand that I am intense and dramatic and competitive but that doesn't mean that I can't be a good friend, does it?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Of course it does! I have no friends! Of _course_ it means that."

Leroy frowned. "Rachel, that's not true. You are an incredibly talented young woman, full of grace and good manners." He should know – he raised her. "You are kind and forgiving and loving and I think you will find that intensity, dramatics, and competitiveness are all good qualities so long as they are tempered by a knowledge of when to bow out with good grace." He eyed his daughter knowingly and she nodded. She had to work on that. "You will find many friends who love you for exactly who you are, sweetie."

"Maybe not here," Hiram grunted from behind his paper. "Don't give me that look, Lee," he said without looking up. Leroy softened his intense glare. "You know it's true. Many of Lima's inhabitants are bigoted b-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat. "Er, buttheads," he amended at Leroy's sharp look, "who don't know a good thing when they see it." He smiled. "Or hear it." His eyes softened when he took in his obviously dejected daughter. "You _will_ find friends, Rach. You are a wonderful person." He hesitated and Rachel's eyes zoomed in on him and sharpened until he wriggled, uncomfortable.

"But?" she prompted.

"But," he began, "perhaps you're trying too hard." Leroy nodded.

"Sweetie, you are a _little_ intense. And you said yourself that you are sick of doing all the work of gaining friends. Well," his face brightened with a sudden thought, "why not show everyone how amazing you are and _not_ try to befriend anyone? That would be novel, wouldn't it?"

Hiram nodded. "Or perhaps change something. One little thing and then see how that will change other things."

Rachel looked at her fathers sceptically. Their suggestions sounded a lot like conforming, which she was _not_ interested in.

"Think of it as an acting exercise," Leroy added and the fathers smiled when their young starlet's smile blossomed. An acting exercise was something she could do. An acting exercise was something she was familiar with – she was well used to pretending like the slushies weren't humiliating, that they didn't hurt, that she hadn't been crying after being slapped in the face with an iceberg, that her smile was real.

"What would I change?" she asked.

They just shrugged, smiling. "That's up to you, sweetie. But remember," Hiram called out to her as she skipped out of the room, "just one thing!"

That was the last conversation Rachel had with her fathers. They died in a car accident the following morning on the way to buy breakfast. Saturday morning saw Rachel awoken by a knocking on the door, a policeman in her house, no breakfast, and no fathers.

The weekend passed Rachel by slowly. So slowly, and so fast. She did nothing, unable to quite wrap her mind around the fact that, _yes_, they were gone. That her fathers, the men who had raised her and loved her and helped her and were her foundations and rocks and supporters and her biggest fans, were gone.

She didn't eat. She didn't move from the couch where the kind, sad policeman had sat her down to break the news. Most importantly, she didn't sing.

The funeral was small. They had no other family in Lima and, being the only gay married couple, they weren't well liked. There were a small congregation from the synagogue and the rabbi spoke the words, Rachel was sure. She didn't hear them.

Her alarm went off, ringing sharply, at six am on Monday morning. Rachel hopped on her elliptical, downed a smoothie, and drove to school. She had a perfect attendance record that she wouldn't be breaking any time soon.

**Okay so this is the newest idea I've had, which occurred to me when I was washing a mammoth pile of dishes. Just so you know, I'm thinking maybe Faberry relationship but major Pezberry friendship and um, what is Brittany and Rachel name? Pierceberry? Whatever – they're friends. They're all going to be friends. Yay. Happy reading, readers :)**


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